He'd lived long enough to know that everyone handled grief in different ways, and little by little, they all seemed to accept their new lives.

I'm sorry' I said again. Whenever someone tells you something said, it's the only thing you can think to say, even if you're already said it before.

I knew it wasn't fair, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help it. And after a while, the anger I felt just sort of became part of me, like it was the only way I knew how to handle the grief. I didn't like who I'd become, but I was stuck in this horrible cycle of questions and blame.

She was getting used to his rhythms and his moods, recognizing the quiet signals that telegraphed who he was. Good and bad, strengths and faults, he was hers forever. As she pulled into the driveway, she spotted Logan coming down the steps from the house, and she waved. She was his forever, too—imperfect as she was. Take it or leave it, she thought. She was who she was. As Logan walked toward her, he smiled as if reading her mind and opened his arms.

You were spying on us?" "It was kind of hard not to. You were right there by the workshop with Will. it looked like he was practically squishing you to death." "He wasn't," Ronnie assured him. "I'm just saying how it looked." She smiled. You'll understand when you're a little older.

Based on her experience with men, most assumed that when you talked to them about a problem or dilemma, they were expected to offer an opinion, even when all you wants was for them to listen.

She would tell him what she wanted in her life--her hopes and dreams for the future--and he would listen intently and then promise to make it all come true. And the way he said it made her believe him, and she knew how much he meant to her.